


Inappropriate Workplace Crushes

by Shlomo



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shlomo/pseuds/Shlomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bogo is starting to have some very inappropriate feelings for one of his officers, Benjamin Clawhauser. But that can't happen, right? Right. I mean, that would be wrong, right? Right. Totally unprofessional. Completely. And Bogo is a serious cape buffalo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dumbbells

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy. I love all kinds of comments, kudos, whatever.

It had started in the ZPD gymnasium. The gym wasn’t anything special: small, with free weights, punching bags, a few treadmills. Officers were supposed to work out regularly to stay in shape, but Bogo had a sneaking suspicion that many of his officers looked the other way on that regulation. He usually didn’t see too many of his officers there. Well, he saw Hopps pretty frequently, but she was usually so intent on her workout she often didn’t even notice him.

So on that Wednesday when he was accosted with the sight of Wilde, Wolford, and Clawhauser huddled around the water cooler of the gym, he was surprised. And they all looked sweaty, like they had actually been working out. The thought of Nick Wilde working out was almost too terrible to think about...

Should he go over and say hello, he wondered as he walked over to the dumbbells, which were (unfortunately for him) fairly close to the water cooler. He decided to just nod over to them — Wolford was the only one who saw him, he thought, he nodded back — and get on with his workout. He picked up some weights.

“Are you gay, Wolford?” Clawhauser asked. His voice easily carried over to where Bogo was standing.

Hmm. Bogo had been wondering the same thing, recently. Wolford had volunteered for a committee about bias against homosexual and bisexual cops. It wasn’t really…well, historically, no straight cops had ever volunteered for the committee. Very few homosexual cops joined it either, come to think of it. It was considered career suicide to join that particular committee. But things were changing; it was slowly become more socially acceptable to be both gay and a cop. Clawhauser was out, and he was doing fairly well for himself. And now three officers from his precinct had joined the committee: Wolford, Hopps, and Clawhauser. Hopps wasn't that surprising, anything challenging that would "make the world a better place" Hopps was all over, of course. Bogo smiled a little. He liked Hopps. He didn't like to admit it, but he was even starting to find her enthusiasm charming.

Bogo had never been out at the office himself. He thought…well, he thought his officers wouldn’t respect him in the same way. Old prejudices, he knew, ran deep. 

“Nah, I’m not gay,” Wolford said, “Women are pretty great, so…”

“Why did you join the committee, then?” Clawhauser asked.

“Eh, my sister’s gay, I dunno….I like gay people…”

“Awwww,” Clawhauser squealed, “That’s so cute, Wolford. So accepting.”

“Uh-huh,” Wolford said dryly. “Well, my sister told me I would be a homophobic asshole if I didn’t join it, so I kind of had to step up…”

“I didn’t join it, does that mean I’m a homophobic asshole?” Wilde asked, sounding like he had that shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. 

“No, it means you’re lazy as fuck,” Wolford said, as Clawhauser giggled. 

“Well, I’m very progressive. I’ve had a crush on a male movie star,” Wilde continued.

“Oooo, dish!” Clawhauser exclaimed. 

“I think Benedito Cumberbun is pretty attractive…” Wilde continued.

“Dude, I don’t know if _Benedito Cumberbun_ counts,” Wolford said exasperatedly. “He looks pretty feminine. He looks almost exactly like your girlfriend. That’s more like you’re fantasizing about Hopps with a strap-on than fantasizing about a man…”

Clawhauser burst out laughing, and Bogo even had to smirk a bit. That was pretty funny. That Cumberbun did look a lot like Hopps…

“Oh, well have _you_ ever had a crush on a guy, Wolford?” Wilde continued. “Raise the stakes if you're so sure my crush doesn't quote-unquote 'count'.”

“No, I haven't really had a crush on a guy” Wolford said —

“Ahah! I _am_ the most progressive straight guy here —“

“I’ve sucked cock, though,” Wolford finished, sounding triumphant. “Hah!”

Bogo was impressed. 

“Really?!” Clawhauser said.

“Yeah, do you know Cheryl Timberman?”

“What?” Clawhauser said, sounding stunned. So was Bogo. Cheryl was an extremely important trans activist and comedian in the LGBTQ community. “You did not suck her cock…”

“I _dated_ her, dude…”

“You did not.”

“We dated for six months! I have fucking pictures on my MuzzleBook of the two of us together, here…” Wolford said, sounding like he was fiddling with his phone. 

“Look! That’s us as at a motherfucking wedding. And you only take people to weddings who you are dating, like really dating…”

“This woman has a penis?” Wilde said, sounding confused.

“Yes. Shut up,” Clawhauser said, sounding excited. “Ohmygod. Are you still dating her?! Can you introduce me?”

“No,” Wolford said. “Sorry…it didn’t end well…She _might_ have thrown all my clothes out of a third-story window...”

“How did you even _meet_ her?”

“She came to one an event my sister was throwing….”

“I’m impressed,” Clawhauser said, after a moment. “I’m very impressed, Bill…”

“Are you saying my sinful thoughts about Benedito Cumberbun are not impressive?” Wilde said, pretending to sound outraged. Probably jealous that the spotlight is off of him for two seconds, Bogo thought, grinning slightly. 

This was surprising about Wolford, though. Bogo would have to look at Wolford with new…respect. He seemed like…well, like a dumb jock. He talked about football scores with the other wolves and had even laughed at some of the sexist jokes that Lapininsky delighted in saying. (Luckily, Lapininsky was by far worst offender of that kind of behavior had been transferred to another department after Hopps had complained…)

“Yeah, they are not that impressive,” Clawhauser said, rolling his eyes. “That’s up there with my recurring fantasy of Gazelle pounding me with a strap-on. It’s a pretty unsurprising fantasy for a gay Gazealot like myself. Did you get it? Gazealot. That’s what the members of the Gazelle fan club call ourselves — isn’t that hilarious?”

The three of them drifted away shortly after that; Bogo had a hard time concentrating. The vision of Gazelle pounding Clawhauser was permanently etched in Bogo’s brain. And…he liked it. A lot.


	2. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bogo spends some quality time thinking about Clawhauser and wrestling with his personal moral code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upped the prospective chapter number of this fic to 5 because I'm liking shorter chapters for this fic. Who knows how long it will eventually be, but I do want this to be a shorter fic.
> 
> I love kudos, comments, whatever....

Bogo lay in bed, staring at his ceiling, his heart beating slightly faster than normal. 

Clawhauser having sex with Gazelle was...Mmm. God, what a _nice_ image. Clawhauser's large body, spread out, being loved by one of his idols... He would probably moan a lot. At least, Bogo hoped he was a moaner. That would make it so, so much better. Maybe a squealer. He squealed a lot in normal conversation, anyway. Mmm. 

Bogo thought about what Clawhauser's fur would feel like under his hand. Like velvet, probably. Bogo had once slept with an ocelot once, and that guy's fur had been short and smooth and almost exactly like fleece. And Clawhauser's fur was even shinier than the ocelot's had been.... 

Sometimes, when the light was just right, Clawhauser's fur almost reflected the light, making it almost look shiny... This happened particularly in the early morning, when Bogo came in a few minutes after Clawhauser (Clawhauser always got in extremely early), Bogo would pass him and wonder what kind of products Clawhauser used on his fur to get it that unbelievably shiny. Clawhauser would greet him idly, concentrating on reading whatever magazine he had brought it with him that day. And eating a donut, of course.

That was appealing, too... Bogo had always like larger men. They were...soft. Something to grab onto. (God, grabbing the sides of Clawhauser's hips as he...nope. Shouldn't think about that.) Not only were larger men amazing to touch, to hold; there was something incredible about larger people who were confident...the way they didn't seem to give a rat's ass about conforming to what others thought they should look like. 

It had been a long time since Bogo had slept with anyone. Months. God, he missed that. Not even the sex - sex was great, of course - but just _touching_ someone. Or having someone touch him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of anyone touching him, running their hands up and down his torso. God. He had recently considered getting a massage primarily just to feel hands on his skin again. He wasn't sure if that was weird or inappropriate somehow... He justified it by telling himself that he did have sore muscles (he did) and that a massage would help (it would) and that his grinding, never-ending need for mammal-to-mammal contact was just a…well, an unrelated factor. 

He thought about Clawhauser touching him. He blushed.

He thought about touching Clawhauser. Not doing anything racy, even just...he thought about running his hands up and down his torso, across his face, over his lips... He blushed even more.

It wasn’t…appropriate…to think about his subordinates in this way, he told himself severely. He prided himself on that. That he never had a, well, sustained fantasy about anyone in his precinct. Passing thoughts were one thing, long fantasies accompanied by associated touchings were another. 

He decided to think about….math. 

That didn’t work.

He decided to think about….maps.

That didn’t work, either.

It would just feel so _good_ , a small insidious voice whispered. 

He cleared his throat in his darkened apartment.

Eventually he told himself that it would be _better_ if he went ahead and finished himself off, thinking about Clawhauser and all. Right? Because this way, he told himself, there wouldn’t be any lingering feelings or longings for Clawhauser the next time he saw him, right? They would be gone, they would be dealt with. It would almost be _worse_ , almost be _more_ unprofessional if he didn’t do something about these feelings, right? And this way, they’d be gone in like, what, five to ten minutes? Yep. That’s the best plan. That’s what the best police chiefs would do, he told himself. 

—

Bogo turned over in his bed, smiling to himself and sighing contentedly. That was, well, really, really fun. Heh. And tomorrow things would be normal and he could…well. Ugh. Be lonely again. Well, he steeled himself as his eyelids fell shut, he could always try dating again. In the meantime, he could schedule a massage. Things might be lonely, but at least they would be…familiar.

—

Fuck, Bogo thought to himself, when he wandered int the station the next morning and saw, as usual, Clawhauser sitting at his desk and casually leafing through a newspaper. Clawhauser looked… and he wanted to… wait, he couldn’t think these things, he was in _work_ for heaven’s sake…

“Hi Chief,” Clawhauser said, lazily glancing up at him and giving him a little half-smile. “What’s the news?”

“Nothing,” Bogo said shortly, stopping to stare at Clawhauser for a minute. 

“Everything okay, Cheif?” Clawhauser asked, frowning slightly and looking up.

God, that little frown…Bogo thought to himself, shaking himself slightly.

“No, sorry, just a headache…” Bogo snapped, trying to look as official as possible and walking away quickly.

Fuck, Bogo thought to himself. Fuckfuckfuck. That Clawhauser…he…he has no business being so…fucking _cute_ in my office….


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY

Friends, and lovers of Clawbogo -- or, as I prefer to call them, Clawgo -- sit down. Have a seat. Gather round.

Shlomo needs to tell you some bad news.

I am not going to be able to update this fic for quite a while. I'm in a summer program that will take up most of my time. 

But, I hear you protesting, how dare you, you arrogant bitch! Don't you know there are not enough Clawbogo/Clawgo fics in the world? If this was a Wilde Hopps fic that would be one thing but you are depriving me of the rare air I breathe, the water I drink, the soil I walk upon! 

I know, I know, I tell you, patting your head.

WHY COULDN'T YOU FINISH IT BEFORE YOU STARTED THIS SUMMER PROGRAM? THIS ISN'T EVEN A LONG FIC? I hear you wail.

Because, my children, my life is a disaster. Nick Wilde often has more of his shit together than me.

I hear you gasp. I know, it's shocking and troubling to think that one of your beloved fic writers could be such a jackass. But yet it's true. Yesterday I started sobbing while lost on a beautiful campus in a place I should be very happy to attend. Well, I usually have an inability to produce tears so I just sort of wail and move by body as if I were crying, which is what I did yesterday. It's pretty great because you sound terrible and your mascara does not run.* Then I called my fiancee who, instead of saying "you poor thing" said, in an irritated tone of voice "I cannot understand you right now." I sulked for about 30 seconds and then allowed him to help me by looking at a campus map online and telling me directions over the phone long-distance, which is a very expensive replacement for basic orienteering skills. Then I victoriously found the dorm which looks like a prison. I joked that it was a panopticon and only one person in the small huddle I was standing with understood the reference, giving me a false sense of superiority which lasted until I opened Chrome on my iPad and the browser brought up a tumblr page full of dirty Zoop pictures, which I had been looking at the night before. My immersion into a different community, culture, and country has been an emotional whirlwind.

Incidentally, I may write some very short fics in Hebrew during this summer program.

Do you read Hebrew? Are you interesting in beta-ing my work? Comment below or contact me on tumblr or some other bullshit. Username is shlomoshlomit on tumblr.

L'hitraot,

Shlomo

 

*The last time I really sobbed was when I completed the first season of Telltale Game's The Walking Dead. It was really hot where I was so I wasn't wearing many clothes and I stood, nearly naked, sobbing and banging my head against the wall. It was...quite the sight.

PS - I forgot to give you a montage of things that will happen in this fic! 

\- Kissing  
\- Stroking  
\- Adorable things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE WILL MEET AGAIN


End file.
